Return of the Phantom of the Opera
by numbuh550490
Summary: Consists of elements from Gaston Leroux's Phantom of the Opera, Susan Kay's Phantom, and Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera.
1. Chapter 1

Christine Daee had escaped the Opera House in 1881, though the nightmare still ran though her mind. She took in a shaky breath as she got closer and closer to the new, rebuilt, opera house. Her clear, ocean blue eyes looked tired and stressed, and her blonde hair was a bit messed up. She smoothed out her white dress and stepped out in front of The Academy of Music. She hadn't been here in years, though she didn't think she would ever be brave enough to go back. Now here she was, standing and just gaping at the building for a few moments. Raoul was at home with their son and convinced Christine was safe. He was going to let Christine sing at the new opera house, and she had been half delighted, but she had also been frightened.

Erik had died the same year, 1881, and she hadn't been there when he died. She had run off with Raoul, though Erik still held a special place in her heart. Christine had heard rumors that Erik's spirit still haunted The Academy of Music. Some said they could hear him play his only musical, Don Juan Triumphant! Christine closed her eyes remembering the night she heard one song from Don Juan Triumphant. There was something haunting, yet intoxicating about the music. It had driven her a bit mad that night, and she had felt as though she was going crazy. Christine had been locked up in the Phantom's lair, his domain, and his only home.

Christine tried not to cry as she remembered Erik telling her how much he loved her and how he wanted her to be happy. She had never realized until now how painful it had been for Erik to let her go off and marry Raoul. Christine had to sneak off that night just to give him a copy of her wedding invitation, though Raoul had torn up the first copy before that night.

She slowly walked into the building and looking around the building. They had remade the building, though it wasn't the same. It was Erik's design, but he did not build it. Christine wasn't sure of how she felt of Erik at the time, though she now realized that she had been in love with him also.

"Mademoiselle Daee," said the new owner of the opera house.

"Hello monsieur," Christine said with a fake smile.

Christine followed him to her old dressing room, though she felt her nerves growing and building up inside of her. Her heart fluttered with a sudden hope that she would hear Erik's voice again.


	2. Chapter 2

Christine walked into the dressing room by herself feeling a bit anxious, but yet she felt that she was getting her hopes up to high.

"Erik," she softly said.

She awaited for a response, anything, but she got nothing, no answer, and now she felt a bit dissapointed. She touched the mirror that still stood in her room, and she wasn't sure of how the thing worked. It had been Erik's magic that had let her through while he was alive, though there was a way to open it without Erik's help.

She had been merely a child, eighteen years old, when she met Erik. She had been to young to fully appreciate his training, and he had been the one that helped her perfect her pianissimo. His golden eyes shimmering with tears that were hidden under the mask. The dreaded mask that his mother, Madeline, made him wear! Madeline had fear of Erik, but mostly she only feared him because she did not understand him. All her life she had been a spoilt child, and she was considered a very beautiful women. Madeline had been mean to Erik because he was born disfigured, so what if he was scary looking. Sasha, the dog, had been a mother to Erik. Erik had cuddled with the dog as a baby, and Sasha loved him, though he was mad when he found out the dog wasn't able to go to heaven. Erik had cried when the towns people had killed Sasha, and he had a proper buriel for Sasha. People still thought of him crazy today, and they thought of him as a cruel murderer.

No one understood that they were the ones that drove him to madness. They had mistreated poor Erik, and they had beaten his soul to a pulp. Erik hid his past from Christine, though she had seen a picture of Madeline. Christine rememebered how uncomfortable and angry he was about talking about the picture. She had kept her mouth shut after that, though sometimes she still wondered. Nadir, the persian, and Erik's only friend, still stayed loyal to Erik and kept the secrets of what happened Mazanderan.

Christine groped around the mirror, until she found the weakest point, and the door opened.


	3. Chapter 3

Christine stepped in to the mirror, and she frowned slightly at what she found. The hallway was very dark, though when Erik had taken her here, it had been magical. She saw rats scurrying around and doing whatever they pleased. She carefully stepped through, trying to remember the way to his underground domain. "Angel of music," she softly sang to herself. She had been hoping to here is voice, though all she heard was an echo of her own voice.

She was a bit suprised to see the black horse still standing there. She carefully ran her fingers through the horse's smooth mane, and she watched the horse's eyes that looked a bit suprised to see someone here. Christine knew that this was the horse that Erik had stolen from the Opera House, The Academy of Music. She remembered when she use to visit the horse in it's stable and feed it carrots. "It's alright," She managed to soothe the horse, and she carefully climbed on to it's saddle.

Christine thought back to the first time Erik had led her through this underground trail. She tried not to get lost in the many underground paths, and it was almost like a small town under here. "The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind," she softly sang to herself. She ran her hands on the neckless that her son had made for her. The jewels on the neckless came from a collar that was on Erik's precious Siamese cat, though the cat hadn't always been very nice to her. The cat had been Erik's little lady, and Christine felt silly of some of the memories. During that time, Christine use to be jealous when Erik would pay more attention to the cat and not herself. Me jealous of a cat, Christine thought. She let out a bitter laugh at the memory, though inside she was feeling a bit of pain.

She carefully got off the horse, and she saw the old boat that was tied to the shore. Christine remembered the day her and Raoul left Erik's lair. She had looked back at him while he sang and broke his mirrors. She remembered the soulful words that had escaped his lips. "You alone can make my song take flight, It's over now the music of the night!"

Christine got in the boat and searched for Erik's underground lair, though she remembered the day he tore up all his musical compositions for Don Juan Triumphant. She shivered at the memory of hearing a piece of his music and how he had raped with her with those vulnerable notes. The passion and different combinations of the notes was hard to describe, but the sound of his voice was also something that couldn't be defined. The sweet voice that had sound so gentle, yet to others, Erik looked like a monster.


	4. Chapter 4

Christine felt her breath grow shaky as she drew closer and closer to the lair. She could still see the old organ covered slightly in dust, and she could also see the musical sheets ripped up everywhere. She closed her eyes as the boat laid on the shore. The memory of Erik singing to her and putting her under his spell with his soft, alluring voice.

Flashback:

_"Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation; darkness stirs and wakes imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defences," Erik had sang as he helped her out of the boat. _

_"Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor, grasp it, sense it, tremulous an dtender. Turn your face away from the garish light of day, turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light and listen to the music of the night." _

_Christine closed her eyes as she felt the touch of his gloved hand on her face. _

_"Close your eyes and surrendor to your darkes dreams! Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before! Close your eyes let your spirit start to soar..." _

Christine had felt like her soul was soaring with the music, and she could feel the sweet, intoxicating music engulfing her. 

_"And you'll live as you've never lived before."  
_

_"Softly, deftly music shall caress you. Hear it, feel it, secretly posses you. Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind in this darkness which you know you cannot fight, the darkness of the music of the night," Erik had sang to her with as much passion, and emotion as he could. He had fallen in love with the young soprano, yet he wondered if Christine could ever love him the way he loved her._

_"Let your mind start a journey through a strange, new world; leave all thoughts of the world you know before. Let yoru soul take you where you long to be!"  
_

_Erik drew himself closer to Christine._

_"Floating, falling sweet intoxication. Touch, me, trust me, savour each sensation," He sang as he embraced her in his arms. He closed his eyes as Christine touched the cheek of his mask. He slowly drew from her, but he held her hand as if it was the most delicate thing in the world._

_"Let the dream begin, let your darker side give into the power of the music that I write, the power of the music of the night..."_

_Christine had fainted in his arms at the sight of seeing herself in a wedding dress. "You alone can make my song take flight, help me make the music of the night..."  
__Erik gently touched her cheek as he left her to rest._

Christine gently touched the keys of the organ, but she paused a few minutes when she could have sworn she heard someone singing. She felt her breath stop as she heard someone sing out her name.

"Christine, Christine," the familiar voice sang in the air.

Christine frantically looked around and sang something that she hoped Erik would remember. "Angel I hear you, speak, I listen, stay by my side guide me, angel my soul was weak forgive me, enter at last master."

Christine waited for a response, but she was slightly dissapointed when she heard nothing but silence. She carefully stepped towards the old swan bed, though it was still a great work of art, as Christine had remembered it. She touched the sparkling, black curtains and drew them up.

She rested on the bed hoping to hear her angel of music sing to her like he did before.


End file.
